


Partially Blue Dwarf, Mostly Void

by buttpatrol



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Multi, Not Beta Read, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Polyamory Negotiations, Post Who's There, Pre-Relationship, Silly bit of fluff, podcast trash, worlds collide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttpatrol/pseuds/buttpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eiffel knocks on the door again.</p><p>The man who answered was not tall nor short. Not thin or fat.</p><p>He was however pretty cute.</p><p>“Is the door not working? Sometimes you have to bleed on it a couple of times before it comes unstuck,” the man said. Absurdly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partially Blue Dwarf, Mostly Void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smilodonmeow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilodonmeow/gifts).



> smilodonmeow asked for WTNV/W359 crossover fics, so in a sleep addled haze I wrote a Cecil/Eiffel/Carlos fic at 3am. I posted it to Tumblr ages ago, but am just putting up here now :D

Everything was on fire, everything was spinning, and he was falling towards the star, _OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD,_ what smells like burning hair? Is it hot in here, or is that just his impending doom as his space craft pirouetted into the white hot depths of a blue dwarf.

He was going to die, probably.

“Commander I—“

He rolled on to the ground with a gentle grassy – _thud_ -.

Ground?

He patted what appeared to be a lawn under his face. Yup, definitely lawn.

Was this Earth? Was he home? Was he safe? Was everything all some weird LSD dream?

“Hera, are you there?” He croaked, hopefully.

Nope, no Hera.

He _was_ however, surrounded by multiple pairs of small bright sneakers, and one set of wheelchair wheels.

“Hello?” he tried, sitting up.

The school children shrieked “INTERLOPER” in perfect synchronization.

–

 Eiffel knocked politely on the door. After the children had stopped shrieking and pointing, he had managed to explain to them that he was a communications officer, and that he was maybe supposed to be in space right now. The child in the wheelchair named Janice had nodded wisely and pointed to a radio tower towards the middle of town.

“My uncle knows radios, maybe even space radios. Also his boyfriend is a _scientist._ ”

Eiffel winced, his track record with scientists had not been the best recently.

Still he walked off the soccer field of Night Vale Elementary, past a dark forest, and across the highway. Various people he passed on the street smiled, and waved, and called him “INTERLOPER”.

The radio station itself was fairly unassuming. A short, squat building, with dusty windows and a large retro broadcasting tower. A handwritten sign taped to the door said “INTERNS WANTED: Gain exciting, hands-on real world experience working in broadcast media!”  followed a doodle  of a cute duck.

Eiffel knocks on the door again.

The man who answered was not tall nor short. Not thin or fat.

He was however _pretty cute_.

“Is the door not working? Sometimes you have to bleed on it a couple of times before it comes unstuck,” the man said. Absurdly.

“Your niece sent me?”

The man smiled brightly, “Are you here to apply for an internship?”

“No,” Eiffel shrugged, “I was in some kind of space disaster, and fell into a star that had turned blue and woke up here. I think maybe I _should_ be freaking out, but this really isn’t _even_ the weirdest thing to happen to me this year. All I know is I am not in Kansas anymore Dorothy, and I would really, really like to know what’s going on. Am…Am I dead?”

“Only in so far as we are all teetering on the edge of existence, between life and being cast into the cosmic depths that spawned us.” The man said broadly, “Also this explains the sun today.”

Eiffel looked up at the blue sun in the blue sky.

Maybe not dead. Maybe he was on drugs. Probably drugs.

–

Things Dough Eiffel has learned about Night Vale so far.

  1. The cute, not tall, not short stranger’s name was Cecil Gershwin Palmer.
  2. Cecil was a radio announcer, and debatably a journalist, here at the station
  3. Cecil had a boyfriend named Carlos, who was a scientist and had great hair
  4. There _was_ a pizza place in town, however a ban on wheat and wheat by-products meant that the quality, like that of seaweed coffee was iffy.
  5. No one seemed particularity fazed  by the man who had fallen from the sky, _nor_ the sudden blue sun
  6. Steve Carlsburg is like, the worst.
  7. Cecil _really_ likes to talk about his boyfriend.



Cecil had managed to find him a pair of orange plaid pants and a slightly bloody, slightly damp t-shirt with the NVCR logo, and tag that read “INTERN DOUG”.

Cecil sat across from him, sipping a drink that somehow smelled like vanilla and sulphur. He looked at Eiffel like he was the most interesting person in the world, and Eiffel blushed faintly at the warmth, and intensity of said look.

“Sooooo, Doug, Where are you from?” Cecil said resting he chin in his hands.

“Um, Boston. Boston, Massachusetts.”

“Never heard of it.” Cecil shrugged, “Is that in Florida?”

“No?”

“Mich- Meeehhh…. Mitch-i-gan?”

“Michigan?” Eiffel said feeling vaguely lightheaded. “No. Farther east?”

“Huh. Well Doug, how is your life? Got any hobbies? Are you single?” the last word was drawn out in a salacious sing-song.

“No? _Yes_? Possibly, I am dating the space station I lived in? I guess?”

Cecil nodded knowingly “ _Oh man_ , we have _all_ been there. Right, listeners?”

“Er, who are you talking to?… Are we live, like on air?” Eiffel scanned the room for a microphone. There was a tiny one glinting over the mini-fridge, but it was labelled ‘Sheriff’s Secret Police. Do Not Eat’. Eiffel thought for a moment, “Wait, _You_ call them listener’s too? There _actually_ people out there? I am not just speaking to myself, and the depths of space?”

That warm smile again, “Only every second Thursday.”

Eiffel smiled back wryly, speaking into where he hoped the microphone was, “Hello, dear listeners. This Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, _not_ recording today from the U.S.S Hephaestus station, but from the sunny, _possibly_ American town of Night Vale.

–

“And now we take you to… The Weather,” Cecil said, pressing a button.

The feed switched to classical music. Weirdly scratchy.  Huh, thinks Cecil, this should be pre-recorded, and therefore not have bad reception.

On the other side of the table, Doug Eiffel, Interloper– but also Radio Enthusiast, and also _nice,_ shifted nervously. “Bach, eh?”

“Yeah. I don’t think this weather is coming from the station. Huh, it _looks_ like it’s coming from… Deep Space.”

Eiffel deflated visibly, brought back to reality after the fun they had during the broadcast.

“Oh. I used to get those transmissions all the time. Weird. It was nice to not think about my space weirdness, in favor of your town’s weirdness for a while. I bet my friends are worried.” He said glumly, putting out his cigarette in the Night Vale Opera House branded ashtray.

“Don’t worry,” Cecil said reassuringly, “This will all be solved in a narratively satisfying way by the end of the weather. Let me make a few calls.”

–

And somehow, the weather was still going later when they found themselves on the roof of the station.

“Ah, this brings me back,” Cecil said.

Eiffel waited for him to explain further, but instead Cecil just said, “Yup, brings me back. Oh, those days. Back then. Which I am brought back to.”

Over by the tower itself, the most handsome scientist Eiffel had ever seen was very quickly drawing a lot of math, and some arcane looking symbols into the dirt, surround by star charts helpfully provided by (UGH) Steve Carlsburg, since for most people in town the sky was _usually_ mostly an empty screaming void.

“Okay,” said Carlos, standing up, “According to science, if we can hit this frequency with the radio signal we should be able to communicate with your corner of space, and maybe send you home.”

“ _Nice_ ” Cecil said, going to high five his boyfriend, who pulled him in for a kiss instead.

Eiffel chuckled, “I have a friend back… home, who says there is no room for affection in science. But looking at you two, I find that _hard_ to believe.”

Carlos blushed and Cecil beamed.

Eiffel looked at Carlos’s math. “Oh that frequency. I think I know what quadrant and channel we need.”

“Can we keep him?” Carlos whispers at Cecil

–

Sure enough as the last string section of the weather faded away, a glowing portal had opened two feet in air above the station roof.

The star above burned bright, beckoning.

“Here is some cookie bars from Old Women Josie, and a rain hat just in case, and _this_ ,” Cecil pushed an impossibly thick eldritch tome into Eiffel hands.

“Uh, what’s this?” Eiffel asked around a mouthful of cookie bar.

“It’s the terms and agreements, and blood oaths required to enter into a mutual poly-amorous relationship with me and Carlos. Y’know in case you come back this way.” Cecil was looking at him, in that profound, flattering way again. Behind him Carlos smiled shyly.

“Uh, thanks.” Eiffel said, feeling a little fluttery.

“Eiffel…. Are you…. There? Please….come in…” The portal whispered with the familiar crackle of a comms link.

“Well this is my ride I guess”

Both Carlos and Cecil kissed him on the cheek and gently pushed him into the portal

“Add me on Pinterest,” Cecil called, as Eiffel was washed away by a wave of space-time

–

Eiffel lands in an undignified heap in the mess in front of Minkowski.

“EIFFEL! ARE YOU OK? What happened?! WHY. ON EARTH. ARE YOU WEARING A RAIN HAT?”

Eiffel pats the rain hat. “You know, I _was_ fairly sure that was a dream. Huh.”


End file.
